


one by one

by avxry



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex falls for it all, M/M, Modern AU, Nonbinary lafayette (for like a second), Sexual Tension, Thomas is a tease, alex is Super Attracted, lollipop lol, this sounds grossly sexual but it's really not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avxry/pseuds/avxry
Summary: Alexander Hamilton's interactions with different parts of Thomas's body.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm afraid this is a sin

**//eyebrows.**

Alexander is talking. This is typical. There's rarely a moment when he _isn't_ talking. But this time, he can't seem to hear what he's saying; he's distracted.

To be fair, he wasn't particularly passionate about the topic he's defending; he just jumps at every chance to throw a few more insults in his opponent's direction.

But something about Jefferson is gathering his attention. He's focused more on him than on the argument – more specifically, he's focused on his eyebrows. They're incredibly expressive, reacting every time Alexander speaks, whether they're both raised equally or just one of them is lifted in a state of apprehension. Jefferson could hardly hide anything in his expression because of them.

Alexander keeps chattering away rapidly, pretending he is entirely engrossed in his argument, though his eyes keep wondering back to Jefferson's face.

They're _perfect_. It's unreasonable. It's positively unreasonable. They're so sharply shaped and defined and strong and Alexander is very worried about his ostensible obsession with them.

Jefferson opens his mouth to cut into Alexander's spiel; he acts offended, but honestly, he still hasn't caught on to what he was talking about. He lets Jefferson argue his point, all the while trying to drag his eyes away from his facial features.

Unreasonable.

***

**//shoulders**

This is absolutely ridiculous, and Alexander voices that fact. He is above this mindless work, and, as much as he hates to admit it, so is Jefferson.

Filing paperwork is such a banal activity that Alexander wants to rip his hair out.

"I want to rip my hair out."

"I'm sure you do," Jefferson sighs, already annoyed at Hamilton's incessant complaining. "Believe me, you'd be doing us all a favor. That greasy mop is distracting."

"Why is my hair distracting, Jefferson?" Alexander sneers, shoving papers into a folder. "Spend a lot of time staring at me?"

Jefferson rolls his eyes, though – what is that? – is he directing his gaze elsewhere? Alexander ignores it.

"No, Hamilton. Your mere presence is enough to be distracting. God knows nobody gets any work done when you're around."

Alexander scoffs but doesn't comment. Jefferson turns around to work on other papers, and Alexander is left staring at his back. He shouldn't be as okay with this as he is. He watches Jefferson's shoulders roll, work in tandem with his arms as he sorts papers into folders and boxes.

This situation just got ten times more ridiculous. Alexander's hands stop working on the papers of their own accord; they still and Alexander stares. Jefferson had taken his suit jacket off earlier, and his purple dress shirt is unfairly taught against his back, and Alexander can't understand for the life of him why he can't turn away.

He shakes his head and tells himself it's because _anything_ is more interesting than filing papers, even Jefferson.

He also tells himself that Jefferson doesn't smirk when he catches him staring.

***

**//chest**

Of course, they're arguing. They never do anything else. The meeting ended nearly an hour ago, and yet, here they are, still in the same room, still arguing the same points, still saying the same things. Neither will budge.

And Alexander is pulling at his collar because Jefferson took off his jacket and his chest is visible through his dress shirt and it clings to his torso in all the right places and it's just _not_ _right_ and _not appropriate_ for the workplace, he shouldn't be allowed to wear something so revealing—

He runs a sweaty hand through his hair, pulling it back into a messy bun, but it's still too hot in this room, he took his jacket off half an hour ago, and he rolled his sleeves up just a few minutes after, and he's still burning up and it's _not right_. Jefferson should not make him this hot and bothered, what the absolute _hell_ is going on here?

Alexander is flustered as Jefferson's scowl slowly transforms into a smug smirk. He paces toward him slowly, tantalizingly, and Alexander is rendered speechless for the first time in, possibly, his life.

Jefferson is much too close now, and Alexander is still staring at his torso, his chest far too sculpted and his hips far too whatever the hell they are.

"Distracted, Hamilton?" Jefferson drawls, his voice gravelly as he approaches Alexander. He's so close now that he has to look down to meet his eyes.

Alexander tries not to fumble over his tongue when he stutters, "N-no. Are you, Jefferson?"

Jefferson snorts out a laugh and brushes past him as if nothing just happened. "As if."

Alexander swallows thickly and wills himself to not stare as he struts away.

***

**//eyes**

Alexander groans to himself as he continues complaining about the absolute cliché that is this company party. He would much rather be home, drowning himself in caffeine and clicking away at his laptop, but this stupid gathering is mandatory, and he wants to scream.

He arrives at the door, and before he's allowed to enter, he's given a card, roughly the size of their business cards. He flips it around in his fingers, examining the design of an eagle in a circle on one side.

"What's this?"

The young person at the door smiles politely. "It's your ice-breaker card, sir. You find someone with the same symbol and then get to know them a little better."

Alexander gives them an exasperated look, then nods to himself resignedly. "And let me guess; Martha Washington?"

"Yes, sir," the person grins sheepishly. "Mr. Washington gave me an order to randomly disperse these at Mrs. Washington's request."

"She doesn't even work here, how does she have so much power?" Alexander says to the air, but there's no bite to the remark. He gives the person his thanks and enters the building, smiling at some of his friends, who have already arrived.

"John, Hercules!" he calls out to them, wading through the people to stand beside them.

"Alexander," John greets with a grin.

"What card did you get?" Hercules asks him, revealing his to be a bear.

Alexander scrunches up his nose. "An eagle. John?"

"A badger, I think?" John chuckles. "Looks like we're not paired."

"We'll have to _actually_ participate in this thing," Hercules groans. Alexander nods along with him just as he spots their other friend, Lafayette.

"My friends!" they shout enthusiastically, somehow always cheerful. "What cards do you have?"

They each show Lafayette their cards, John pleased to see that he and Lafayette's symbols match. At the sight of Alexander's card, Lafayette gives him a regretful look.

"Alexander, I am afraid your card matches with Thomas's," they say, looking remorseful.

Alexander groans. "As in Jefferson?"

" _Oui_ ," Lafayette nods, and Alexander feels like banging his head on the wall. He clings to the hope that he doesn't see Jefferson any time soon for about five seconds before Jefferson cuts into their little circle to glare at all of them.

"Cards?" he asks bitingly.

"Alexander has yours," Lafayette answers, trying to cover a chuckle at the situation.

Of _fucking_ course Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson would be paired together. The hands of fate truly have no mercy.

"I'm going to go find my partner," Hercules says, rolling his eyes a little and working his way through the crowd.

"Lafayette; join me at the drink table?" John suggests, winking at Alexander as the two of them leave him alone with his single greatest enemy.

He looks at Jefferson and raises an eyebrow.

Jefferson does the same.

They both huff and cross their arms, painfully aware of their resemblance to stubborn children. Finally, Jefferson drops his arms and says, "We're supposed to be _getting to know each other_."

"I already know much more than I'd like," Alexander rolls his eyes.

Jefferson glares at him, ice in his eyes, and that's the first time Alexander really notices them. The lighting in the room is dim, lit only by some blue and white lights hung around the walls, and Jefferson's eyes seem much softer, warmer than they ever had before. Alexander finds himself staring.

"Earth to Hamilton," Jefferson says, waving a hand in front of his face. He shakes his head a little.

"What?"

"You were staring."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"Was not –"

"Oh my God, can we have one single conversation?" Jefferson exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "Just one, where we're not bickering like babies?"

"So you admit you bicker like a baby."

Jefferson rubs his temples, shutting his eyes and willing himself to not break Alexander in half right here, or worse, continue this argument.

When he opens his eyes, he moves directly in front of Alexander so he can no longer be ignored. Alexander thinks they're much too close for comfort, but he can't say so, because Jefferson is staring him in the eyes, and he's never noticed before, but Jefferson's eyes are a really nice brown, really glossy and soft, despite his usual uptight demeanor, and he gets a little lost for a minute.

He keeps expecting Jefferson to lash out, yell at him or hit him or something, but the longer he stares, the less Jefferson seems ready to fight.

Alexander turns away finally, his cheeks flushing. He says nothing as he walks away, deciding to screw this card thing and rejoin Lafayette and John. If Washington has anything to say about it, he'll take it later, because right now, he can't deal with Jefferson.

Lafayette and John are giggling at him as he walks over, having seen the whole encounter.

"What?" he growls, his shoulders slumping.

"Nothing, nothing."

Alexander raises an eyebrow, daring them to say something more, but they never do.

Jefferson looks much too forlorn the rest of the night.

***

**//hands**

Alexander can't stop staring at Jefferson's hands. He hasn't paid attention the entire meeting, because he's too distracted. Jefferson has written nearly the entire time, taking notes and writing whatever, and when he wasn't writing, he was cracking his knuckles or twiddling his fingers and damn it Alexander cannot pay attention.

The meeting is adjourned. Nobody comments on his near silence, grateful that for once, the meeting didn't take two hours because of his bickering back and forth with Jefferson.

Alexander nearly doesn't realize when everyone gets up and leaves. Jefferson is still scribbling something when he coughs to snap himself out of it. He rolls his chair away from the table and rises, embarrassingly headed for the door.

Before he can make it through, a hand clasps onto his wrist. He stops and turns to face Jefferson, looking at him expectantly.

"You're suspiciously quiet today," he says, and damn if it doesn't sound _suggestive_.

Alexander wills himself to not gulp. He tries to shrug nonchalantly. "Had a lot on my mind."

Jefferson smirks. He still hasn't released his grip on Alexander's wrist. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is," Alexander says, trying to appear confident and defiant, but his voice is too weak. "Now, if you'll unhand me –" He nearly squeaks as Jefferson's grip loosens, not to let go of him, but to trace its way up his arm, their eyes not parting. The tension between them is tangible. They're standing too close and Alexander feels too vulnerable; he wants to run but Jefferson's hand is like an anchor.

Jefferson smirks down at him, a glint in his eyes that Alexander finds equally terrifying and _hot_ and oh God get him out of here.

Jefferson's hand has found its way to his chest, fingers splayed out, gently pushing on him with his palm, and Alexander is sure that his pulse is roaring enough to be felt. He feels small. He can't look away.

Jefferson drags his hand up to clasp around Alexander's neck, and for a moment, he thinks he's about to kiss him, but Jefferson just shakes his head.

"Pull it together, Hamilton."

And like that, he's gone.

Alexander doesn't move, frozen to the spot, feeling his blood rush in his veins. _Not fucking fair_.

***

**//lips**

Alexander has had about all he can handle. God is testing him, and it's decided; he's going to Hell. At least Jefferson will be joining him, because what he is doing is a _sin_.

He doesn't know how Jefferson got that sucker or who thought it would be a good idea to put them in the same room while he had it, but Alexander is dying a little inside by the second. Jefferson is licking the sucker and shifting it around in his mouth in a way that is just _unholy_.

Alexander shifts in his seat. He thinks he has to be imagining things when Jefferson looks over at him, because he thinks he sees him wink.

They're sitting in Washington's office, waiting for the man to arrive. They were summoned for an unknown reason; probably to put them together on something that isn't at all important, just because Washington likes to torture them.

Jefferson keeps making ungodly sounds beside him, and Alexander pointedly stares at the ground, willing Washington to hurry up and tell them what this is about. He sees Jefferson raise an eyebrow in his peripheral vision.

"Something bothering you, Hamilton?"

Alexander nearly chokes. "No."

"You sure?" Jefferson says, and he can _hear_ that stupid smirk. "You seem to be having trouble."

"Bastard," Alexander mumbles, accepting that there's no reason to deny anything anymore.

Jefferson chuckles. "Hamilton, you're so difficult."

" _I'm_ difficult?" Alexander scoffs, finally looking Jefferson in the face. "You're the one with the – the writing and the sucker and – and – ugh!"

Jefferson calmly tilts his head. "So something _is_ bothering you."

"Oh my God, you're so infuriating!" Alexander exclaims, running his hands through his hair. "You're doing this on purpose! You know – you know what you're doing! Just stop it!"

"Believe me, I want to stop," Jefferson says, shrugging. "Probably more than _you_ want me to."

"I find that hard to believe," Alexander snaps, glaring his direction.

"You're incredibly thick, sometimes," Jefferson remarks. "I wouldn't have to tease you like this if you'd just shut up and kiss me."

Alexander's breath catches in his throat. All the air has been sucked from the room. He feels his heart pounding. The room has gone deadly silent.

He manages to squeak out, "What?" He's looking at Jefferson, expecting him to say something entirely different from what he heard.

Jefferson leans forward in his seat so that their faces are only a foot apart. His pulls the sucker out of his mouth with a _pop_ and licks his lips. "I said," he drawls temptingly, "shut up and kiss me."

Alexander doesn't think before he reacts, just grabs Jefferson's collar and yanks him closer, crashing their lips together, their teeth colliding and their foreheads smacking. Alexander can't breathe but it's fine. Jefferson tastes like bubblegum and he's never loved the flavor more than he does right now.

He's practically climbing over the armrest of his chair to get closer, taking Jefferson in as much as he can, pulling him closer and tilting his head to get a better angle. Jefferson nips at his bottom lip and he gasps audibly, giving Jefferson the chance to poke his tongue out and swipe it across his teeth, and Alexander loses all feeling everywhere but his mouth, feels his soul leaving his body.

Jefferson drops the sucker, letting it fall to the floor. His hands have reached out to tangle themselves in his hair, pulling on it just hard enough to elicit an ungodly sound from the back of his throat. Jefferson releases a moan and tugs them closer.

Alexander has pushed his chair aside and settled into Jefferson's, straddling his hips, when the door swings open dramatically. They jerk away from each other, lips numb and swollen, to meet the eyes of George Washington, who looks as if he wants to bleach his eyes.

Alexander is suddenly very aware of his position and nearly falls trying to get out of it.

"Mr. Washington," he stutters, standing and tugging on his crumpled shirt.

Washington looks at them both again, shakes his head, and says tiredly, "Get out of my office."

Alexander and Jefferson scramble through the door, not meeting Washington's eyes. They both jump when the door shuts behind them.

They stand awkwardly for a minute, not looking at each other. Finally, Jefferson takes a deep breath, turns to Alexander, and suggests, "My office?"

Alexander grins and leads the way.

**Author's Note:**

> definitely a sin i'm sorry 
> 
> i've never written sexual tension before so i probably totally butchered it, i am incredibly ace so i have no experience with this, i didn't even mean for it to be sexual tension anyway but that's what it turned into lmao
> 
> this is one of my fav jamiltons that i've written woo
> 
> it isn't beta'd and thank you for reading, let me know what you think!


End file.
